Rituals
by Kreek
Summary: Rodney ponders his teammates' coping mechanisms when his own is failing.


**Disclaimer: **None of these characters belong to me. No money is being made from this. Written for fun only.

**Rating: **K

**Characters: **McKay, Sheppard

**Setting: **Takes place right after 'Grace under Pressure'.

**Warning: **Spoilers for 'Grace under Pressure.'

**Summary: **Rodney ponders his teammates' coping mechanisms when his own is failing.

**Author's notes: **A short story of mine. Written a while back as a character piece, and as a First Person try out. Betaed by Starsky's Strut.

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**Rituals  
**By Kreek©November2009

Why _War and Peace_? I've never asked Sheppard but I can guess. Contrary to what he thinks, I've read it. Not going to tell him though. Not so much unalike, him and me. He needs to read. I need to learn. I have to look at our discoveries, minor they sometimes may be.

And when there's none, lately, I turn inward and see the book Sheppard reads, the sparring Ronon does, and the meditation Teyla subjects herself to in order to unwind. I long to join, but know I can't. I need a laptop and pretty schematics disclosing secret workings. I have to use my brain. Compulsive worker, that's me. The universe is shaped by scientists and soldiers, and then only by the best in their field.

I sit on my bed and stare in the dark. I couldn't sleep last night so I worked through the night shift, trying to reach that state of oblivion I usually achieve when delving into a science problem. Instead I grew more tired by the hour. The laboratory felt cramped, smothering, sort of like my room does now. If I listen closely, I can hear the soft humming of energy systems keeping the city warm, causing it to stay livable and afloat.

I woke up five minutes ago convinced I was drowning. Teyla dropped me off here right after breakfast. I must have slept all through the day for my room to be this dark. I can't discern the walls but know they're there.

_Come on, McKay. First order of business… night light, right. _

Not working.

Damn it.

Probably another power conduit's on the fridge, which could lead to a whole bunch of problems. _Of course Atlantis will not sink! No need to be irrational here._ There's too many fail saves in place to prevent such a massive power failure. I'd better fix the problem though. Sheppard will complain. He hates flickering lights. Teyla uses candles, so… not a bother. Ronon will probably use the situation to hammer down his 'students' in the dark.

It's funny how you're getting used to the city's subliminal humming of its power systems. It's quiet now. _Way too quiet._ I close my eyes to withdraw in the safety of the more familiar dark recesses of my mind. I find it hard to forget Griffin's sacrifice, the near drown, or the blame I place solely on myself for the oversight that caused the jumper to crash.

"_Come on, McKay."_

That was Sheppard talking, yesterday, in one of our rare heart to heart moments, which I avoid as much as possible.

"_I went over your science report."_

Here I was, looking dumb founded, because John always manages to catch me off guard when casually mentioning that _Oh yes, I studied this research project of yours, _or a, _I've seen the report McKay, you're exaggerating._ It's not like I've forgotten that the man's clever up to the point that he even understands the technical details. _Must be all that spare-time reading he's been doing. _It's just that he doesn't often lift his shroud of dumb ass soldier routine.

"_There's nothing you, Zelenka or Griffin could have done to prevent the jumper's power failure."_

_My call, my science team, my responsibility, Sheppard,_ I'd retorted.

The look he shot me. Sometimes the man can be an open book, at least to me. The loss of every marine, every expedition member affecting him to the core was an easy read. But this is not a comfortable subject, and my mouth ran dry. How does my team cope? Sheppard reads, Ronon spars, Teyla meditates: regularly recurring actions performed in the same way. All those rituals do is give a false sense of being in control. _No_, I don't believe _War and Peace_ is the answer.

_You're thinking too much. Get a gr__ip, McKay. Forget the whole near drown and move on._

Yeah, case closed. So what's with the jitter bugs?

"_Rituals are for the weak my son."_ My father's voice. "_They entice expectations that will hamper your road to scientific recognition."_

So what if my old man was wrong? I shiver, as an unknown source of warmth attempts to penetrate my body. I've felt this illusive feeling before, like when I was hearing the impossible sound of a fist pounding on the jumper's hatch beneath tons of freezing water. I can't let the hard lump in my stomach uncoil though, because there's this death on my conscience. There'll always be Griffin.

A sound. Causing me to jump out of my skin. _Jeez, it's just the buzz of the radio._

In the dark, I fumble with the ear piece and press the button.

Sheppard's voice rings in my ear. "_Five minutes, McKay."_

I acknowledge. He closes the connection before I can say more. I sit, overwhelmed, hand still on my ear. Passing the schematics in my head, the structured law of science, I allowed them to impose this ritual on me. And now, God help me, it's working. I actually unwind. I bite my lip, trying to stem emotions welling up.

Movie night… Who would have thought?

**The End**


End file.
